


The Torment and the Pain

by ProxyOne



Category: Dir en grey
Genre: Die is in lurve, Emotional pain, Excessive Drinking, Fluff though, M/M, Pining, beginnings of alcoholism, caring Shinya, moved from LJ, old fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 13:29:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14716991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProxyOne/pseuds/ProxyOne
Summary: Those are my first thoughts waking up, almost every single day. The only times I don't have that thought is after a night of drinking, and that's only because I'm usually too busy thinking I'm going to die.





	The Torment and the Pain

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, another old fic, this one from... *checks* ...2007. Past me had a raging boner for first person present tense pining fics, it seems lolol. Original comments add precisely nothing to this, so they're getting left out this time. Other than to say the opening quote is from D'espairsRay's 'Infection' which I still love to death.

_I know I can never reach for you_  
  
Those are my first thoughts waking up, almost every single day. The only times I _don't_ have that thought is after a night of drinking, and that's only because I'm usually too busy thinking I'm going to die.  
  
Which is funny, I think while I'm leaning over the bowl, holding my own hair out of my face, because that's my name, too. Die will die. Ha ha ha. How delightfully ironic it all is. But then I finally sober up and swear that I'll never touch another drink again, and then I think of him...  
  
My swearing off of alcohol will last maybe a week before it all gets too much and I just need to _forget_.  
  
I wish I could.  
  
I wish he'd never come into my life.  
  
I wish I could make him leave.  
  
I pray he'll never go.  
  
Do I like feeling like this? Needing someone so much, wanting someone that I can never, _ever_ have? No. But ... part of me does. Part of me loves this feeling, loves the torture that I'm put through every time he laughs, every time he smiles at me, every time we touch...  
  
We kiss, sometimes. Only in my head, in my dreams, but it always seems so _real_. And then I realise it's not, and the call of the bottle starts again.  
  
Tonight is no different to all those others. Only it is, because in my drunken state I've stumbled out of the bar, the bar I went to with Kaoru just for a change, and I don't think he's even noticed because I've managed to get him as drunk as me (and believe me, that's really saying something because I am _hammered_ ) and I think the last time I saw him the bouncer was trying to convince him to get in a taxi by himself before he was thrown in. I'm not really too sure where I'm going, but it looks very familiar. It's only as I get closer that my alcohol-blurred eyes finally figure out that I'm near _his_ house. Him. The reason for me being like this. For some reason I'm filled with anger, almost _hate_ towards him. I'm so _angry_ that he could make me feel like this, so helpless, but mostly I'm angry with myself for _letting_ him do this to me. I sit down right where I am, not really paying any attention to whether I'm on the path, in someone's garden, or even in the middle of the road, and cry in frustration. Frustration at loving someone that I hate, hating someone that I love, for hating someone as wonderful and perfect as he is. Because I don't hate him. I wish I did, with all my heart, because that would be so much easier. So much easier than loving him.  
  
Car tyres squeal, and I look up to see headlights coming to a stop mere centimetres from my face. I'm fairly certain I should be worried, but I'm not.  
  
“Hey, get out of the way you little bitch!” a voice yells through the car window, and I turn my head, squinting to try and focus.  
  
“Bitch?” I slur, staggering to my feet. “I'm not a bitch.” It occurs to me I'm the one who was sitting in the middle of the road crying, so maybe I could perhaps be a little more forgiving towards someone who is probably just reacting to the fear of having nearly hit someone, but all I can see is an outlet for all my anger, my frustration and fear, and I move towards the voice determined to take my revenge.  
  
Fortunately for me, I think, the people in the car are neither stupid nor overly macho, and drive off before I can get too close.  
  
Now I'm really pissed off.  
  
I let out a loud yell, not caring at all if I'm waking people up, and I rage, pacing along the street, punching lampposts, concrete walls, anything solid I can find until my knuckles are raw, blood pouring out of the cuts to drip along the street.  
  
I'm probably going to regret that in the morning.  
  
It seems the amount I've had to drink tonight is really starting to hit me now, because my eyesight is starting to fade. It feels like my head is floating away, so I decide to go and find a corner or doorstep to sit in until I wake. I stumble, not entirely sure where I'm going to end up. A door looms ahead of me, and it looks so welcoming, so I move closer, my feet now wanting to refuse every command I give them and I slump against it, sliding down as my eyes fall shut.

***

  
  
My eyes open. The light is far too bright, and when I turn my head I think I might throw up. Something is holding me down though; I can't get up at all.  
  
“Sorry. Did I tuck you in too tight?”  
  
I know that voice. I think I must be still drunk. So I ignore it, because who wants to see a drunk man talking to himself on the side of the street?  
  
“Die? Can you hear me? Are you listening?”  
  
“You aren't here. Stop talking to me.” I mutter, as my surroundings begin to come into focus. I'm somewhat surprised to find that I'm no longer on the doorstep I passed out on. I seem to be in a bedroom. Not mine though. God, who was sad and desperate enough to take me home? And what the hell did we do?  
  
“I'm fairly certain I _am_ here, and no I _won't_ stop talking to you. Should I even ask why you were passed out outside my door?”  
  
I look around, narrowing my eyes against the glare of the sun as in pours in the uncovered windows, to see Shinya sitting on the edge of the bed next to me.  
  
“Um,” I manage before a new wave of nausea hits me and this time I _know_ I will be sick, but before I know it Shinya has grabbed a bucket from who knows where and is holding it next to me, making sure the loose strands of my now tied back hair don't fall in the way as I vomit. Finally it passes, though I know it won't be for long, and now Shinya is holding a glass of water out, helping me take small sips.  
  
“Don't want you getting dehydrated. Let me see your hands.”  
  
Dumbly I obey him, struggling to pull my arms out from under the tight blankets, showing him my bandaged knuckles. He must have done that while I was passed out, too.  
  
“I hope you know I'm going to have a lot of questions for you when you've sobered up a bit.”  
  
I just nod, because I don't really feel up to actually answering him. Somehow I feel like I've betrayed him, letting him see me like this. We spend most of the morning like this, him holding my hair while I vomit, him giving me water, him talking to me, smiling at me, laughing...  
  
I'm dreading the time when I have to tell him _why_ I'm here.  
  
“Die,” he says, looking away, and I know I'm probably not going to like what he has to say. “Why do you drink so much?”  
  
I wasn't really expecting that one. I thought I'd kept the worst of my drinking from him. I open and close my mouth a few times, not really sure what to say. Something tells me that being honest right now probably wouldn't be the best idea.  
  
 _Why? I drink to forget you..._  
  
No. Definitely not the best idea.  
  
“I know you think you hide it, but you don't. Not really.”  
  
What is he? A mind reader?  
  
“You're probably not going to like this, but I don't think it's healthy, what you're doing to yourself. I think you might need help.”  
  
Need help? Well, I suppose that much is true. But not in the way you think, Shinya. I don't say that, of course. I just nod, because I can't do anything else.  
  
He sits next to me, still stroking my hair out of my face, and I force my face to remain calm. Crying in front of him won't do at all.  
  
“Die? Is there something that's been bothering you?”  
  
He's looking at me now, staring right into my eyes, and I'm transfixed. He's so beautiful, and I don't mean in the purely physical sense. He _cares_. He's honestly worried about me. He wants to help me, I can see that.  
  
“Sort of.” I find myself blurting out, and I clamp my mouth shut, my eyes widening slightly, hoping he doesn't press me on it.  
  
“Can you tell me?” he says gently, and before I know it I've started talking.  
  
“I – I met someone a while ago. I fell in love, but they'll never love me back. That's why I started drinking. I was trying to forget.”  
  
I could almost kick myself. The concern on his face is breaking my heart, and I know if he keeps asking I'll keep telling, and then he'll want me out of his house, out of his life, the band will break up and it will be _all_ my fault for not being able to keep my feelings under control.  
  
But he doesn't question me any further. He just smiles, and much to my surprise he leans down and kisses my forehead.  
  
“Brush your teeth. Have a shower. You're smelly,” is all he says, so I pull the blankets off myself and oblige. It's only now that I realise he's even changed me out of my dirty and probably wet clothes from yesterday. The thought gives me butterflies.  
  
I amble into the bathroom, stripping off pyjamas that don't really fit me before standing under the hot water while Shinya does whatever it is that Shinya does when he's alone. He's probably cooking dinner. Playing with his dogs. Something like that, anyway. He must have locked his babies away, now that I come to think of it. They didn't run in and jump all over me like they normally do. Finally I get out, drying off. I had brushed my teeth in the shower, which while kind of gross is still making me quite happy, because now I can climb into my clothes and stay warm. I open the door to the smell of food, and when I walk out Shinya is laying it on the table. Despite the state I was in earlier, my stomach growls, embarrassingly loudly. It's not a surprise, really, considering it's probably been a good two days since I last ate anything that wasn't a bar snack. Even that has long since gone. No wonder I'm hungry.  
  
“I got a call from Kaoru earlier,” he says, taking his apron off. I try to listen to him speak, but the image of him in his apron has got me giggling.  
  
“Die? I said Kaoru was worried about you, since he couldn't find you when he went home. I told him you'd turned up here and that you're fine.”  
  
“Oh,” is all I manage, suppressing my giggles as I look back up at him.  
  
“Okay. What's so funny?”  
  
“You. Your apron. It's cute.”  
  
He just rolls his eyes and gestures to the table, so I sit and eat everything in sight. I'm absolutely _ravenous_ , but he seems to have been able to tell this too, because he's cooked far more than we would normally have been able to eat.  
  
“Die. Can I ask you a question?” he says as we clear the dishes. I nod, and he turns to face me, looking straight into my eyes again.  
  
“The person you love. Is it me?”  
  
I'm floored. How did he know? Has he always known? Did I say something last night to make him think that? Did Kaoru? How would Kaoru have known? Did I tell _him_?  
  
“Die, stop babbling.”  
  
I didn't really notice that I was speaking out loud, but when I look at him, he seems amused. His face is flushed, but he certainly doesn't look like he's on the verge of kicking me out. He's still looking directly at me, his gaze not wavering at all.  
  
“Answer me properly, yes or no. Is it? Is it me that you love?”  
  
I nod, looking away, but then his hand is on my chin, forcing me to look back at him.  
  
“Good. Because I've been wondering for a long time how to tell you that I think of you as more than just a friend. But you've saved me the trouble. So thank you.”  
  
I stand there, gaping at him.  
  
“But there will be one rule. No getting this drunk. Expect maybe at special occasions. And certainly not to try and forget me.”  
  
I'm still gaping at him. Did he just say what I think he did?  
  
“Yes, Die. I mean it.”  
  
Okay. He really must be a mind reader.  
  
I'm struck with fear though. Will it really be that easy? Can we really just begin a relationship like that? I'm sure I can give up the drinking. I'm sure I can.  
  
Can I?  
  
It's for Shinya, though. I can do it. If it's for him, I can do anything.

 


End file.
